


Big Happy Family

by xanderwilde



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Batboys causing trouble, Bruce needs a vacation, Dick Grayson is the mom friend, Family Bonding, Fluff and Humor, Gen, One Shot Collection, and the rest are just a mess, don't come looking for a plot because there isn't one, just a good time with the fam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-08 17:58:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18899743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xanderwilde/pseuds/xanderwilde
Summary: A collection of one-shots based on the Batfam and their shenanigans around Gotham City.





	1. Vlogging

“Say hi, Tim.”

The camera slowly came into focus, honing in on the shape of a boy hunched over a computer screen, black hair ruffled as if he had made a habit of running his hands through it. The camera zoomed in on the back of his head before bouncing back out as the boy swiveled around, a scowl on his face. 

“I’m _busy!”_ he growled, reaching out for whatever was closest to his grasp and hurling it at the offending cameraman. Fortunately, the nearest thing was a half-eaten bag of marshmallows, and made no damage to either the camera or its owner.

The latter picked up the bag and returned it to the boy at the computer. “Yeah, busy doing what?”

The boy dunked a marshmallow into the mug of cold coffee that sat next to his computer, then bit into it contemplatively. “Making sure everyone in this house covers their tracks so they can’t trace stuff back to us. Because apparently no one else cares enough to think of that. Or they’re just too dumb to think of it.” He turned back to the screen, swallowing the rest of the marshmallow. “When you leave, tell Alfred to bring me more coffee.”

“Or you could try this cool new drink I heard about. It’s called water. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

The boy, Tim, scoffed and didn’t answer. The camera focused on the computer screen, which displayed an amateur blog, clickbait ads cluttering the sides. The title of the post read “Identity of Robin: Indisputable Proof,” and beneath the title were countless blurry photos of a small dark figure, standing on rooftops or crouched in alleyways. A snort sounded from behind the camera.

“You just want to look at pictures of yourself.”

Tim replied without turning around, “For your information, Grayson, those are pictures of _Damian_. Shows how much you pay attention to these things.”

“Uh huh, sure. All you kids look that same to me anyway.”

Tim huffed out an exasperated sigh. “What are you even doing in here? Aren’t you supposed to be like saving people and stuff?”  
“Aren’t you supposed to be on a no-coffee diet for a month?” Tim glared. “Oh, cool it. I’ve decided to take up vlogging.”

“How very 2006 of you. You gonna review beauty products or something?”

“I thought we could go back and watch them when we’re adults and remember the good old days.”

“Grayson.”

“What?”

“You’re already an adult.”

There was a long pause, then Dick Grayson switched the camera around to face himself. He stared at the lens as if just processing the information. “Every day seems to bring more bad news.” he intoned, looking genuinely depressed. Then he turned the camera back to Tim, who was watching irately. “Okay, but when we’re like, old adults. I realized the other day you never know how much longer we’ll be working together…”

“I’m pretty sure no one in this house is working together at this point, but continue.”

“Ok, working together being a relative term, then. My point is, we’ve all been given opportunities like no other. I thought it’d be cool to commemorate some of those times, and look back on them when they’re over.” He paused. “Also, I just really wanted to use this camera. Some shop owner gave it to me when I saved his store from being blown up by a pyromaniac, and it’s got a totally wicked shutter release and color balance.”

Tim winced. “Please tell me you didn’t just say ‘totally wicked.’ You weren’t even born in the 80s.”

Dick ignored him. “So I wanted to put it to good use. I thought you’d love to be a part of it.”

“Yeah, well, I’m busy right now. Go bother someone else.”

The view through the camera lens swiveled around and wobbled out the door. It was clear that its owner wasn’t planning on filming any steady footage, with the way it bounced haphazardly around as he thundered down the well-polished stairs of Wayne Manor. Sliding across the equally well-polished floor of the foyer, Dick almost ran into an older man in a suit, carrying a feather duster and a spray bottle.

“Sorry, Alfred!” he called, narrowly averting a crash. He stopped sharply and turned back to the butler, who raised an eyebrow.

“Something you need, Master Dick?”

“D’you know where Jay is? I’m trying to do some interviewing and Tim’s apparently too busy for me.”

Alfred shrugged. “Last I saw Master Jason, he was speaking to your father in the cave. That was late last night. I have no idea where he went off to after that.”

“Ok, thanks, Alfred. Oh!” Dick spun around again to fave the butler before he walked off. “Do you want to add anything to today’s vlog?”  
“Today’s what?” Alfred echoed.

“It’s like…a family documentary. You can just say whatever. I’m trying to find the other kids and have them talk about themselves, which shouldn’t be hard to do.”

“Oh, I see. So you’re documenting everyday life in the Wayne family. Well, I think it’ll be pretty self-explanatory once you find some of your siblings to talk to.”

Dick followed the butler as he walked off. “So do you like working for Bruce? Being a butler…buttling, or whatever it’s called?”  
Alfred shrugged. “Of course I do. I could do without all the broken bones and concussions his children tend to bring home, but only because I care about them.”

“Aw, Alfred, you’re the best.”

“Why, thank you, Master Dick.” Before he could continue, the front door burst open and a stocky figure in a leather jacket breezed in, slamming the door behind him so hard that the windows along the same wall rattled. The figure stopped and stared at Dick.

“What are you doing here, Grayson?”

“Oh, hey, Jay. I was looking for you.” Dick followed the other boy as he made his way to the kitchen, boots thudding on the floor at every step he took. Alfred glanced in dismay at the trail of dirt the newcomer was leaving behind him, but sighed and said nothing.

Once in the kitchen, the new boy kicked off his shoes and opened the refrigerator doors, sticking his head inside. Dick zoomed the camera in on him.

“So, Jason Todd, the one and only. Care to grace this humble vlog with your presence?”

Jason emerged from the fridge, a sandwich in each hand. He took a bite from each. “What are you talking about?” he asked from around mouthful of food. Dropping the sandwiches on the marble countertop, he turned and began to rummage through the expansive walk-in pantry.

“I’m vlogging, Jay. Tall me about yourself.”

“Hi, my name’s Jason, I replaced you when I was an impressionable child, I died in a brutal attack once and wasn’t allowed to kill the criminal who did it…what else about me do you want to know? Oh, and my favorite color’s red.” His voice was muffled and Dick had to follow him into the pantry to hear what he was saying.

“You’re the only one who’ll actually do this. Thanks, man.”

Jason gave him a sidelong look, still searching through the cabinets in the pantry. “What, helping you out with your little digital scrapbook of fond family memories? Yeah, no problem. Hey, do you know where Bruce is keeping all the tequila around here? I could’ve sworn it was in here the other day.”

“He probably knew you’d be here today and had Alfred lock it up.”

“Why? It’s not like he can’t afford to let me have a drink or five.”

“Yeah, but he’s not a big fan of the whole ‘drink your sorrows away’ phase you’ve been in.”

Jason scowled, then turned to the camera. “For all inquiring parties, yes, I’m twenty-one…no, I’m not an alcoholic.”

Dick switched the camera to face himself. “One of those is a lie. I’ll let you pick which one.” He stopped. “Wait, how old are you, anyway?”

Jason shrugged, pushing past him out of the pantry to retrieve his sandwiches. “None of your beeswax.”

Feeling it was wise to not push the matter, Dick returned to his original plan. “Anyway, here’s what I was thinking. I’ll ask you about your favorite things about living in this family…”

“Technically I’m dead by all legal standards, so I’d edit out the ‘living’ remark if I were you.”

“…what it’s like being a vigilante alongside Bruce, just stuff about you.”

“Wow, someone actually asking how I’m doing? I must have really died this time and gone to heaven. Too good to be true.” He pulled off the leather jacket and tossed it over a chair, hoisting himself up onto the countertop. “This isn’t exactly the house of parental concern.”

“So…what’s the best thing about this family?” Dick decided to ignore his last sentence. 

Jason pulled the lettuce out of the sandwich in his left hand and set it in the sink beside him before biting into it. “Like the best person, or the best overall experience?”

“I don’t know. Whatever you’d like to talk about. Jeez, you’re making this so complicated.”

“Hey, don’t yell at me. This was your idea.” He kicked his legs in the air, drumming his heels on the cabinets beneath the countertop. “Well, I guess the best person is probably Al. He’s the only one with any sense in him, doesn’t go around sticking cameras in people’s faces.” He threw a pointed glance at Dick, but the latter could tell he was enjoying the attention _._ “From what I remember of officially living in this house like a million years ago, my favorite thing’s the flatscreen TV in the home theater. That thing was the bomb.”

“Don’t say ‘the bomb’ around Tim. He’s anti-80s slang right now. And your favorite thing wasn’t the cave? I thought you’d’ve loved that.”

“Yeah, it was okay, but have you seen a movie on the flatscreen? I’d rather spend my time rewatching Titanic than hanging out with bats and computers in the basement.”

“I didn’t know you liked Titanic.”

“I hate Titanic.” He picked the tomato out of the sandwich, putting it next to the lettuce in the sink. “The fact that I’d rather watch people crying on a boat than hang out among the stalactites should say something about the relationship I have with the people here.”

“Oh. Well, okay, tell me more about yourself. Some cool facts or something.”

Jason jumped down from the counter and put the half-eaten sandwiches back in the refrigerator, returning with a juice box instead. “These belong to demon baby?”

Dick shrugged. “No idea. I didn’t even know we had those.”

“Yeah, if you did they’d be gone by now.” He wandered out of the kitchen and into the hall, juice box in hand. “So, cool facts about me. Well, I’ve got a fan page on the internet that I definitely did _not_ start, and it’s got more followers than the Batman fan page. Even in death I’m the best. Cool fact number one.” He finished the juice box and set it down next to a tall vase filled with fake flowers, knowing Alfred would come along and pick it up eventually. 

“What’s something people may not know about you?”

“Well,” Jason started, but broke off when something whizzed through the air and embedded itself in his neck. He spun around with a screech of rage. “ _Damian!”_

Dick turned around too to see a small figure hanging upside down from the bannister above them, blowpipe in one hand and a bag of darts in the other. The moment Jason moved, he swung back up, racing off down the hall. Jason wasted no time barging up the stairs, dart still sticking out of his neck. He reached the top of the stairs and rounded the corner, almost crashing into Tim, who had emerged from his room, coffee in hand, to see what the commotion was about.

Jason stopped short. “Where’d he go?”

Tim squinted in the bright light that poured in from the tall windows and pulled up the hood on the red jacket he was wearing. “Who?”

“The brat. I saw him come up here.”

“Oh, Damian? He went that way.” Time pointed to the left, down the adjoining hall, and a dark-haired head popped out of one of the doors that lined the wall. 

“I hate you, Drake!” it shouted, and Jason took off running, finally yanking the dart out of his neck and tossing it over his shoulder. Tim ducked as the needlelike ammunition sailed over his head and embedded itself in the wall. He took a sip of his coffee, unruffled.

“Bullseye. Every time, Todd.” He turned to go back into his room, then saw Dick following Jason and Damian, camera in hand. He rolled his eyes. “Still filming? I don’t think you’ll need a recording to remember perfectly what their hourly brawls are like.”

Dick shrugged. “If I ever miss any of you on patrol, I can watch it and be grateful you’re not there.”

“When did _I_ get involved in this? I’m not the one tossing anyone out a window or sticking darts in someone’s face.”

A loud crash was heard down the hall and Dick hurried off, more out of concern than desire to document any further scuffles. Tim sighed, then turned and retreated back into his room, closing the door behind him.

Opening the door Jason had disappeared behind, Dick saw the latter in the process of pinning down the other boy, about half his size. “I’m in the house for one minute… _one minute…_ and already you’re trying to kill me! Can’t you lay it off for _once,_ demon spawn?”

The younger boy hissed at him, dark eyes narrowed, then delivered a kick to Jason’s stomach, causing him to fall over backwards with a grunt of pain. Dick lounged against the wall, the camera momentarily forgotten as he watched the fight with interest, prepared to intervene if either of them tried anything too dangerous. Usually they would stop before anything too serious happened, but it was impossible to tell with these two. 

Also, it was pretty funny to watch Jason getting beat up by a ten-year-old. 

Damian, now freed from his older brother’s grasp, leapt to his feet and aimed another kick at Jason’s head. Before he could react, the older boy grabbed his ankle and dragged him back to the floor, gaining the upper hand. Dick decided he didn’t want to get in trouble with Alfred for letting them fight so viciously…some expensive thing could get broken if they didn’t stop…so he held up a hand.

“Truce, kids! Unless you want Alfred putting you to work all afternoon. He was dusting the foyer earlier, and I know you guys _love_ helping out with that.”

Instantly they both froze, then got to their feet simultaneously. Damian shot a glare at Jason, who retaliated with a condescending scoff. 

“Why are you here, Grayson?” Damian snapped, retrieving his bag of darts he had dropped by the door and examining the blowpipe in his other hand.

“He’s been wandering around sticking that stupid camera in everyone’s face all day, because apparently he wants to remember these _loving_ times we share.” Jason said sarcastically before Dick could reply. “If you need something to shoot at with your little demon darts, shoot the camera. Then maybe he’ll stop.”

“Yeah, right. Like you didn’t enjoy talking about yourself.” Dick retorted, and Jason scowled, crossing his arms.

“Hey Damian, be part of this too.” Dick pushed past Jason and focused the camera on the younger boy, who frowned.

“What does it involve?”

“Just talk about yourself. Who you are, what your favorite things are, you know.”

“But you know who I am.”

Jason groaned. “Airhead. It’s like an interview. Like when you go to galas with Bruce.”

“They don’t know who I am though. Grayson already knows. So why should I tell him?”

Dick could see by the expression of Jason’s face that his limited patience was running out. He raised an eyebrow. “You already owe Alfred like twenty-five dollars for the swear jar, Jay. Any more and you’ll be broke.”

Jason bit back the few choice words he had been about to say, and blew out a sigh. “You deal with the gremlin, then. I’m leaving.” He stalked out the door. Damian shot another dart at him as he left, but it flew past and disappeared into one of the curtains for the hall windows. He turned back to Dick and pocketed the weapon. 

“So you want me to give you information for future reference?”

Dick paused. “I guess that’ll work. Sure. Just tell me about your favorite things and what you enjoy doing most.”

Damian frowned, deep in thought. “I suppose I most enjoy when Father lets me drive the Batmobile…”

“What?”

“Well, when I drive the Batmobile.”

“You don’t even _qualify_ for a driver’s license yet! Why would Bruce let you do that?”

Damian shrugged. “Maybe he was too busy to notice.”

“Okay, so you like potentially wrecking some of the most expensive equipment Bruce owns. Good to know.”

Damian’s eyes widened. “You were trying to trick me into giving away information, weren’t you!”

“No! That was just a bonus. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Bruce.” Seeing the younger boy’s glare, he switched subjects. “So you enjoy being Robin. Didn’t we all. What’s your favorite part about being on patrol?”

“Well, Father still won’t let me use a gun, even just to detain, so that’s quite annoying.”

Jason reappeared, having evidently been listening at the door. “Tell me about it.” He imitated Bruce’s voice, drawing himself up to his full height stiffly. “‘No guns. No killing.’ If I’ve heard it once…”

“Shut up, Todd, this is my interview.” Damian turned back to the camera. “Even so, without the gun, my favorite part of patrolling is surprise attacks on perpetrators. Stealth…”

“…is no fun. What’s vigilantism without a little flair?” Jason interrupted again. 

“It’s getting the job done. Unlike some vigilantes I could name.” Damian shot back, raising an eyebrow at Jason, who scoffed.

“For your information, gremlin, I have _multiple_ fan pages on the internet dedicated to my vigilantism, saying I’m even better than Batman. What do you say to that?”  
“I say you need to stop reading about yourself online.” Tim entered the conversation, peering into the room from under his unkempt hair.

“Pot. Kettle.” Jason pointed to Tim, then to himself. “That’s literally what you do every single day.”

“For research purposes. Not to further any narcissistic tendencies that some of us seem to have.” He glanced meaningfully at Jason. “And besides, it’s work. Blocking police leads, breaking down theories, disproving anything that could link any of us back to who we really are. So you have me to thank for that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you have any suggestions or ideas for future oneshots for this fic you'd like to see, let me know in the comments! thanks for reading!


	2. Dine And Dash

“ _This_ is the rendezvous point?” Damian’s voice shouted into the comms receiver. Dick winced at the feedback screeching in his ear, and dropped from the rooftop into the near-deserted parking lot. 

“Cool it, little dude. It’s a good enough time as any for a snack.”

“But Grayson—“ Damian was cut off mid-protest as Dick switched his comms link off and bounded toward the dimly lit building with the flickering sign reading “Waffle House” emblazoned across the front. Another dark figure materialized from the shadows, helmet gleaming in the light from a streetlamp.

“Seriously? She could’ve just said _meet me at Waffle House_ and I wouldn’t have argued. Why all the secrecy?”

Dick nodded over his shoulder. “Lil D would never have come if she said that. I don’t even know if he’ll come anyway, now that he knows we’re bailing on patrol.”

Jason shrugged a little too enthusiastically. “Boo hoo for him. Let him go tattling to Bruce and sit down for a nice kale-and-dirt smoothie, or whatever health-store grossness he eats. I need some calories.”

“Sure you do.” Dick deadpanned, glancing at the other’s burly frame. “So good of you to always be thinking of what’s best for your body.”

Jason shuddered. “For a horrible moment you sounded just like Bruce.”

Their conversation was broken up by the arrival of two more figures leaping silently from the roof’s edge. One of them flipped long hair out of her face.

“I guess you guys got the message.”

“Yeah, all except Damian. But you know he has _strong feelings_ about junk food.” Jason snorted. “Guess that’s the Wayne blood in him.”

“Or the ten years of ninja training.” came a voice from beside him, and Jason spun around, gun at the ready. He scowled.

“Not everyone appreciates the ninja thing around here, Bruce Jr.” 

Damian shrugged. “I am not looking for your approval, Todd.” He turned to Stephanie Brown, who had instigated their little meeting. “As for you, Father will certainly not approve of your slacking on the job.”

Dick elbowed him in the side of the head. “You’re here too. Don’t play the high and mighty here.”

“Yeah, especially the high part. At least until you grow a few inches.” Jason muttered. Damian swung around, leaping at the red-hooded member of the group with an enraged screech, and Jason tumbled backward onto his back in the parking lot.

“Get him off me! He’s gone stark raving nuts!” he shouted, and Dick rolled his eyes. 

“Let’s go. Hope I still have that Robin discount they gave me years ago. I don’t have any cash on me at the moment.”

“You don’t have any cash, period.” Tim said drily. Dick ignored him, and the three wandered inside the swinging doors of the Waffle House, barely acknowledging the sounds reminiscent of a catfight going on outside. The two servers in the joint looked up tiredly as their patrons entered, and their eyes lit up as they realized who it was. 

“Red Robin, oh my gosh! And Batgirl! Woah, I’ve heard you guys come here sometimes but I never thought you’d actually…” The closer of the servers, a teenage girl, clapped her hands to the sides of her head in disbelief. “Woah, that’s the coolest! You guys are my heroes!”

“Wow, it’s Nightwing. We love you, Nightwing.” Dick mumbled, peeved at the lack of attention he was getting. Luckily, the other server, a girl in her early twenties, spotted him before he could become too discouraged.

“And Nightwing! You’re actually still in Gotham!” Dick grinned, pushing his way past Steph and Tim.

“You know it. What say you rustle up a few menus for me and the team, hmm?” She scurried away, and the three sat down at the nearest table. Tim glanced at Steph.

“I don’t get why he always does that.” She nodded conspiratorially.

“Yeah, it’s super weird. Probably some psychological thing.”

Dick narrowed his eyes. “I’m sitting right here. What are you even talking about?”

Tim turned to him. “How you always seem to turn into some sort of strange 50s-era smooth-talking sports announcer cowboy around cute girls.” He imitated his brother’s voice. “ _What say you rustle up a few menus for me and the team?_ You never speak like that around us.”

“You really want me to talk to you guys the way I talk to cute girls?” Dick countered. “Okie dokie, baby doll.”

Tim cringed and Stephanie choked with laughter. “You know what I mean. You become totally fake and it’s gross. You’re lying to all those girls.”

“At least I get to talk to girls.” Dick grinned, lacing his fingers behind his head. Tim scowled and tried to brush off a layer of grime from the table. 

“Wonder when those two outside’ll finish up their little power struggle.” The catfight sounds had diminished, but there was still no sign of either Jason or Damian. Dick shrugged.

“Ah, the constant ‘who is the more disappointing son’ battle. Gotta love this family.”

“Here are your menus.” The older of the two servers set them down on the table and smiled, her eyes lingering on Dick’s face a moment longer. Tim gave him an ‘I told you so’ look. “Can I get you something to drink, guys?”

The door banged open and Jason strode in, his helmet looking slightly more scratched than before. “Got any booze?” he asked, his voice echoing. The server’s eyes grew even wider and she blushed. 

“Red Hood too? You’re…”

“Your favorite local vigilante?” Jason strode across the room, an extra swagger in his walk. “I sure hope so, honey.”

She looked as if she would pass out from happiness. “Well…yeah, you kinda are. You saved my dad from a group of drug dealers once. You probably don’t remember, but…”

“Hey, I might not remember your dad, but I’ll sure remember you.” Jason interrupted, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Now about those drinks.”

“Oh. Uh…well, we don’t really serve alcohol here…but I guess I…”

“No worries.” He waved a hand airily. “I’ll just take a lemonade.” Pulling a small flask from his pocket, he dangled it between his fingers. “I can spice it up myself.”

“Okay.” She scribbled down the order, barely noticing as Damian straggled in, looking like a cat that had tried to fight a bulldozer. He slumped down beside Tim in the booth and glared at everyone in general. 

“I’ll have lemonade too.” Dick and Stephanie said in unison, and Tim asked, “Got any coffee?”

“What would you like?” the server asked Damian, who glared at her friendly tone. 

“Water.” he mumbled, and she nodded. 

“Okay. Coming right up.” Her cheeks still tinged pink, she ran off to the kitchen. Jason shoved his way onto Dick’s side of the booth, leaning his elbows on the table. Tim stared in dismay as a cloud of dirt settled down on the part of the table he had just cleaned. 

“Boy, I haven’t been to this joint in years.” Jason said, stealing Dick’s menu and perusing his options. “Think my Robin discount applies if I’m Red Hood now?”

“They’re not supposed to know you were Robin.” Tim hissed, scrolling through his phone. Steph was reading over his shoulder, either the night’s crime report or Tim’s Twitter page. By the way she laughed, it was probably not a crime report. 

“Okay, fine. I’ll ask for a Red Hood discount. I don’t have any money so they’d better give me one.”

“Why don’t you have any money?” Dick asked scoldingly. 

“Saving up for a new AK-47. Mine got scratched the other day and that ain’t acceptable.”

“Just ask Bruce for cash.” Tim offered, still staring at his phone. Jason rolled his eyes.

“Sure. ‘Hey Bruce, can I borrow your credit card? What for, you say? Oh, just a gun that can cause maximum destruction. No biggie, right?’ Yeah, that would go over great.”

“Why do you not simply use his credit card and not tell him about it?” Damian finally broke out of his black silence. “He is rich enough that he would never notice.”

“What, you’ve done that?” Jason asked. Damian nodded.

“I bought a Ferrari two months ago and Father has not noticed.”

“Why? You can’t even drive.” Dick interjected. Damian shrugged.

“I like to plan for the future.”

“Huh. Well, it’s a thought. I still don’t have any cash on me, so I’d better get a discount.”

“You could always hold a gun to their head until they let you have your meal for free.” Damian offered. Jason nodded thoughtfully.

“It’s an option.”

“It is _not_ an option.” Dick said hurriedly as the waitress came back with their drinks. “Absolutely no guns will be held at anyone’s heads here.”

Jason blew out a long sigh. “Sickening boy scout.”

“I resent that.”

“Are you ready to order?” the waitress asked, and Jason flashed her a grin, which did nothing since he was still wearing the helmet.

“Hey, I was wondering, doll, if I could have a little favor done for me.”

“Sure, anything.” She stared adoringly at him.

“Fantastic-o. You think I could get out of here with a special Red Hood discount? Say, a hundred percent off my meal?”

She hesitated. “Well, I’d have to keep it off the record…”

“Sure you couldn’t do it for me? I saved your dad, after all.”

Her expression softened. “Well…I guess.”

“Thanks a ton, babe. You’re a sweetheart.”

“Aww, don’t worry about it.” She blushed. Tim glanced up.

“Gross exploitation.” he muttered, but no one really listened to him.

“So, your orders?” the girl asked, glancing at the five masked people crammed into one four-person booth. Dick raised his hand.

“I’ll go first. Can I have your classic waffle plate?”

They all ordered the same thing except for Steph, who wanted extra toppings on her waffles, and Damian, who asked frostily if they served whole-wheat. Hearing they did not, he stonily opted for a fruit cup.

“You know they only serve that on the baby menu.” Jason said, taking off his helmet and shaking his hair like a dog as soon as the waitress left. Damian glared. 

“ _Some_ of us care about actual health, Todd, not just shoving a myriad of rubbish down our throats and seeing what sticks.”

Jason smiled sarcastically. “Wow, the motivation and charisma of a real-life personal trainer. How do you do it, gremlin?” 

Dick intervened before another fight ensued. “What did y’all cover on patrol?”

Tim nudged Steph. “There’s the cowboy again.”

Jason tossed the two a confused glance, then shrugged. “I did a sweep of the Narrows. Not much happening besides the regular dose of drug deals and the occasional shoot-out.” He opened his coat to display three handguns and a small black trash bag. “Slim pickings, but who am I to complain?”

“What’s in the bag?” Damian asked suspiciously, and Jason reached over to smack him on the side of the head.

“Nothing for you, brat.”

“It’s cocaine, isn’t it?” Tim asked, still absorbed in whatever he was reading on his phone. Jason turned bright red before scowling loftily.

“Cocaine is a very broad term.”

“It’s actually not.” Dick stared accusingly at his brother. “You really stole cocaine from the drug dealers? What on earth are you even going to do with it?”

“Well, sadly, I don’t have a credit card, so I can’t snort it the good old-fashioned way. I was thinking I could stick some into Bruce’s protein shake and watch him face plant in the middle of a fight sometime. I’d pay big money to see that.”

“You are _not_ going to do drugs in this family, Jason.” Dick said decidedly, and Jason rolled his eyes.

“Yes, mom.”

“I mean it. Drugs have no place here. You can find excitement other ways.”

“Like the natural high I would get by slowly killing my murderer while Bruce watches?” Jason offered sarcastically. “There’s a bit of a trend here, Grayson, and since you’re a bit dumber than the rest I’ll spell it out for you. _I_ never get to do what I want, because I’m not a spoiled oldest child or an unrealistically revered youngest child. I’ve got to make my own excitement in life.”

“So you’re saying the only things you want to do are cocaine and bludgeoning a mentally ill criminal to death?”

“Yeah, pretty much. But it’ll never happen. I never get to do what I want around here.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Jason, let’s recap. You literally own a motorcycle and attack petty criminals as a career. That’s got to be at least a little satisfying.”

He shrugged morosely. “Until Bruce goes all ‘you could be so much more, Jason. I still have hope for you, Jason.’ It makes me want to stick a knife in someone’s gut.” He brandished his fork for emphasis and Dick scooted away as much as he could. “But you wouldn’t know about all that. You haven’t _died.”_

“That is literally the most irrelevant point to this conversation.” Dick argued. “And could you shout it a little louder so everyone within a three-mile radius could hear it better?”

Fortunately for everyone at the table, the waitress arrived, balancing two trays. “Here are your orders.” She deposited them on the table and five pairs of eyes eagerly latched onto the steaming plates of waffles. Dick chucked the fruit cup at Damian. “Here you go, kiddo.”

“You want a juice box to go along with it?” Jason taunted. Damian pulled a knife from his belt and slit the lid of the fruit cup open, his eyes narrowed. 

“You’re one to talk, Todd. I noticed last time you were at the manor the amount of juice boxes in the kitchen decreased drastically.”

“How would you have noticed if you weren’t looking for them?” Jason countered gleefully, his former depression forgotten. Damian stabbed a pear cube with his knife.

“Shut _up,_ Todd.”

Their comms links all crackled in unison before anyone could take a single bite, and a deep voice spoke into their ears. “You kids need to get back out here on patrol. We’ve got a situation down at the docks with Jonathan Crane, and the GCPD isn’t going to be here for another twenty minutes.”

Fork poised mere inches above his steaming plate of waffles, Dick grimaced. “Seriously, Bruce? We just ordered food.”

“Well, you’re going to have to put it off for a few minutes. I need your help down here.”

Tim slumped down in his seat, almost disappearing under the table. “But Bruce…it’s really important.”

“It’s waffles.” Steph chimed in. The voice was unrelenting.

“What’s more important is getting this lunatic and his followers back to Arkham before they take out any more civilians. If I don’t see you in five minutes, I’m taking away all your television privileges for a week.”

“Jokes on you, I’ve got my own place.” Dick countered.

“I can buy out the apartment complex and personally cut out your TV cable.” Bruce threatened. Dick rolled his eyes up, then sighed.

“Fine. Come on, guys.”

Damian, who had finished his seven pieces of fruit and half his glass of water, stood up. “Let’s go.”

Jason slouched out of his seat, looking longingly at his waffles. Steph followed suit, dragging a finger through the whipped cream and strawberry sauce and licking it off. Tim poured the entire cup of steaming coffee into his mouth in three swallows and climbed out of the booth, eyes watering. 

“Think I just burned off all my taste buds.”

“That’s great.” Dick said absently, leading the way out the door and waving cheerily to the waitress. “So sorry about the inconvenience! We’ve got a city to save!”

She waved back, staring admiringly at the group as they trooped outside and into the parking lot. Jason started toward his motorcycle. 

“Race you guys.” he called over his shoulder, but they ignored him.

“Okay, well, we can find a place to eat after this.” Dick said comfortingly, looking around at the grumpy faces that surrounded him. For a moment, he was sure this was how Bruce felt 24/7. “I’m sure there’s a place down by the docks we can stop by.”

Steph’s face lit up. “There’s an IHOP!” she exclaimed cheerfully, ignoring Damian’s look of disgust. “We can go there.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Dick said happily. “Now let’s go help Bruce.”

 

\+ + + + + + +

 

“I’ll have your smiley face pancake.”

“I’ll have whatever the special is today.”

“I’ll have a bacon omelette because I’m a real man.”

“I’ll just have coffee.”

“Do you serve whole wheat?”

The waitress looked a little flustered at the sudden appearance of so many of her idols in one place, but quickly jotted down the orders. “Uh…no, we don’t serve whole wheat. I’m sorry.”

“Fine. I’ll have a fruit cup.” Damian crossed his arms and ignored Jason’s smug look. 

“Okay. I’ll be right back with those.” She left, and Dick leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head.

“What a night, huh?”

Jason poured his flask of vodka into the plastic lemonade glass in front of him and gulped it down in one swallow. “We should snort the Splenda packets.”

“Why don’t you just put on your big boy pants and snort cocaine like any tough adult?” Tim smirked. “You’ve got enough to go ‘round in that pocket.”

Jason patted the plastic bag in his jacket. “Don’t worry, I’m dropping it off at the front door of the GCPD tomorrow. I was gonna trade it for some handy info, but I figured my job is to get the drugs off the street, not back on.”

“And into the stomachs of the perps.” Damian supplied. Jason grinned.

“You think they _eat_ the cocaine?”

Damian turned red. “It’s not as if I have _experience_ doing drugs, Todd!”

  
Dick shushed them as a waitress came by with their food, and Damian slid down in his seat, resting his chin on the edge of the table. Jason was still grinning, and the former returned it with a glare that could melt a hole in a block of ice.

“Thank you.” Dick said politely as the waitress set their orders down. “Also, I’ll pick up the tab.”

“Thought you didn’t have any money.” Jason muttered as the waitress walked away. Dick shrugged.

“I just remembered I have some in my sock. I keep it there for emergencies.”

“Emergencies such as these?” Tim asked drily. “Also, why don’t you keep it in a wallet like every other normal person on the planet?”

“I like to be edgy.” Dick joked, and Jason almost choked on the water he was guzzling down, spewing it on everyone in spitting range. A damp Damian renewed his glaring.

“Thanks a lot, Todd.”

“Oh, are you melting?” Jason mocked. “I mean, you _are_ a wicked witch, so…”

“Won’t you just shut up?” Damian growled, holding up his fork threateningly. Jason put his hands up in mock terror.

“Yikes, I’m shaking in fear. Save me, my prince.” He latched himself onto Dick dramatically, who patted Jason on the head. 

“No need to worry, princess.” Jason shot back up, detangling himself from his brother in disgust.

“You had to go and spoil my moment like that, huh?”

“I live to serve, your highness.”

Stephanie and Tim laughed, and even Damian couldn’t help but crack a reluctant smile.

 


	3. Batfam Group Chat

Group chat: **Da Batfam**

 

_Boywonder has added Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown, and Barbara Gordon to the chat._

_Boywonder has changed Jason Todd’s name to zombieboy._

_Boywonder has changed Tim Drake’s name to redrobinyum_

_Boywonder has changed Damian Wayne’s name to LilD_

**LilD: If you do not change my name back, Grayson, I swear I will find you and I will make you regret it.**

_Boywonder has changed LilD’s name to Damian Wayne._

**Damian Wayne: Thank you.**

**Barbara Gordon: What’s this for?**

**Boywonder: Thought I’d make a little family group chat. For like making plans and stuff.**

**Barbara Gordon: Plans?**

**Boywonder: Like if we want to go out to eat or something.**

**zombieboy: if you want to go out with babs just say so**

**zombieboy: we wont judge**

**redrobinyum: uh we will SO judge**

**Damian Wayne: Jason, are you saying Grayson wants to take Barbara out on a date?**

**zombieboy: yeah aren’t they gross?**

_Boywonder has removed zombieboy from the chat._

**Barbara Gordon: You could just ask me, Dick…**

**Boywonder: That’s not why I made this! I just thought it’d be nice to have a family group chat. You guys are the worst.**

**redrobinyum: you do want to ask her out tho right**

**Boywonder: SHUT UP TIM**

_Boywonder has removed redrobinyum from the group._

**Stephanie Brown: yknow if ya keep removing people it’ll just be you and babs left**

**Boywonder: idk why i thought this was a good idea**

_Barbara Gordon has changed her name to Babs._

**Babs: Steph has a point, Dick.**

**Boywonder: FINE**

_Boywonder has added zombieboy to the group. Boywonder has added redrobinyum to the group._

**zombieboy: aaaaand we’re back**

**zombieboy: aint the first time I’ve said that**

**zombieboy: cause you know**

**zombieboy: i died**

**Boywonder: Yeah and you won’t let us forget it.**

**redrobinyum: what’d we miss**

**Stephanie Brown: Barbara and Dick were getting really lovey while you were gone**

**Stephanie Brown: really steamy**

**Stephanie Brown: definitely not PG**

**Boywonder: Honestly Stephanie I swear**

**Damian Wayne: You did not miss anything.**

**Babs: Aren’t you guys supposed to be on patrol?**

**Boywonder: Nah Bruce gave us the night off**

_zombieboy changed his name to dead inside_

**dead inside: yo babs you want to come over to the manor? we’re watching shrek**

**redrobinyum: SOMEBODY ONCE TOLD ME**

**Boywonder: shut up tim**

**Babs: Sorry, I’ve got work tonight**

**dead inside: you coming over @Boywonder?**

**Boywonder: No I hate shrek**

**Babs: I do like Shrek, it’s just that I’m busy**

**Boywonder: I mean**

**Boywonder: I don’t like HATE hate it or anything, it’s just not my favorite**

**dead inside: okay dude we get it you love her**

_Boywonder has removed dead inside from the group._

**Stephanie Brown: which shrek, tim?**

**redrobinyum: idk**

**redrobinyum: id ask jason but apparently he’s not wanted**

_Stephanie Brown has added dead inside to the group._

_Dead inside has changed his name to Handsome Devil._

_redrobinyum has changed Handsome Devil’s name to Deviled Eggs._

**Deviled Eggs: that reminds me, alfred told me to stop by the store and pick up some eggs**

**redrobinyum: i already did it for him cause im, you know**

**redrobinyum: responsible**

**Boywonder: oh burn timmy**

**Deviled Eggs: not the first time ive been burned**

**Deviled Eggs: cause**

**Deviled Eggs: yknow**

**Boywonder: ok listen up guys**

**Boywonder: next week is bruce’s birthday, right?**

_redrobinyum has changed his name to timbalicious_

**timbalicious: uhh idk**

**timbalicious: why**

**Boywonder: I want to plan a surprise party for him**

**Damian Wayne: He will find out. You cannot keep secrets from Father.**

**Boywonder: didn’t you steal the batmobile like 20 times last month? he never noticed**

**Damian Wayne: That is because I possess his same stealth.**

**Deviled Eggs: seriously shut up dami**

**timbalicious: who wants to get chinese takeout for when we watch shrek**

**Deviled Eggs: ME**

**Deviled Eggs: oh**

**Deviled Eggs: i thought you said takeout as in “take him out” and i got excited for a hot second**

**timbalicious: i mean sure if you want**

**timbalicious: as long as you bring back food**

**Deviled Eggs: imma steal the fortune cookies**

**Stephanie Brown: There should be a brand called “misfortune cookies” where they tell you bad things about you**

**timbalicious: @Deviled Eggs yours would say “ur face”**

**Boywonder: ooh burn #2 timmy**

**timbalicious: you’d better believe it**

**Stephanie Brown: so are you planning a party for bruce, dick?**

**Boywonder: well APPARENTLY it wouldn’t work out so idk**

**Boywonder: according to know-it-all baby bruce over here**

**Damian Wayne: I resent that, Grayson.**

**Deviled Eggs: i resent ur face**

**Deviled Eggs: why don’t i get a burn count, dick**

**Boywonder: i’m not talking to you, jason**

**Deviled Eggs: cause of what i said about you and babs?**

**Babs: well its been fun but ive gtg**

**Babs: see y’all later**

**timbalicious: yo j-bird are you picking up food?**

**Deviled Eggs: sure am, my man**

**timbalicious: gucci**

**timbalicious: *good**

**Boywonder: yo tim why does your phone autocorrect to gucci instead of good**

_timbalicious has left the group_

 


End file.
